


In the Name of Science!

by Grace_d



Series: Short Stories for Small Spiders [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Exasperated Rhodey, Gen, Miscommunication, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker means well, Post-Civil War, Protective Tony Stark, Rouge Avengers, SpideySenses, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, and he tries hard, but a bad influence, but he's definitely a chaos machine, field trip to wakanda, reference to underage drinking and drugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23373757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grace_d/pseuds/Grace_d
Summary: “You can't use Mister Stark's four hundred dollar tequila to grow diamonds.” Ned says, more blaster fire from his end of the line.“Diamonds which I could then use to line the repulsor systems.” Peter bites into his apple. “And then I’d always be with him.” Peter adds, “in Spirit.”"I see what you did there,” Ned says, “and I respect the pun. And the concept. Super freaking cute man. And lame. But mostly cute."OR Peter's broken his phone again, but luckily FRIDAY can just broadcast his chats with Ned throughout the penthouse. Too bad his spidey-sense doesn't warn him about Mister Stark's unexpected visitors. And if he ends up in Wakanda after that- well he may have found a little loophole in Tony's orders to stay home.Inspired by @coconutknightshade's amazing "Peter Parker's Super Secret Snack Stash"Teen for reference to underage drinking and drugs, maybe language.
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Avengers Team
Series: Short Stories for Small Spiders [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1423630
Comments: 119
Kudos: 574





	In the Name of Science!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coconutknightshade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coconutknightshade/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Peter Parker's Super Secret Snack Stash](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19171444) by [coconutknightshade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coconutknightshade/pseuds/coconutknightshade). 



“Anyway, dude,” Ned’s voice echoes through the entrance speakers as Peter steps out of the elevators at Stark tower, “I can’t believe Happy forgot to pick you up from school. Mister Stark should dock his babysitting pay.” 

“He’s not my babysitter!” Peter protests again as he shrugs his backpack off his shoulders and pulls off his jacket. 

Of all the days Happy could have forgotten to pick him up, this was definitely one of the worst. So after waiting for forty five minutes in the empty and freezing school parking lot, there had been no way to reach Happy, with his phone finally dead and suit heater on the fritz. It wasn’t the most pleasant day to be taking the already crowded subway. Then there was the four block walk to Stark Tower. It sucked. 

Still, Happy had been picking him up on Thursdays for months now, without complaint, so missing this one time wasn’t too bad. Well actually, ‘without complaint’ might be a bit of a stretch. The man grumbled plenty about doing it, but he always had an apple and a weird green smoothie thing sitting in the backseat when Peter clambered in. Why that particular combination, Peter didn’t know, but always those. May thinks it’s sweet. 

Regardless, without today’s snack, and with the extra travel, Peter’s starving. First, he must feed. And then, return the prototype Peter had not so accidentally borrowed back from the lab before Mister Stark realised it was gone. It’s on his wrist, just hidden under his long sleeves. 

“Die, rebel scum!” Ned curses, and something explodes on his side of the line. FRIDAY’s speaker system was like surround sound sometimes. “Hang on bro, I’m leveling up.” 

Peter tosses his jacket up onto his usual hook (they hung them at Pepper’s height, Tony had explained once) and throws his beanie up after it. He’s pretty sure he can fix his phone today, at least he hopes he can, because he will never again cope with taking the subway without being able to text with Ned. 

A sudden prickle bites at the back of his brain. An unhappy Spidey-sense. Peter loves the tower, loves all the cool tech and FRIDAY’s a marvel, but her extensive sensor system threaded throughout the walls could wreak havoc with his own super sensors. Something was always humming or clicking. It set Peter’s teeth on edge. 

“FRIDAY! My beats please!” He calls, and the AI obediently starts up his personal playlist. 

The music helps drown out the extra noise. He hasn’t exactly told Mister Stark yet about the sensory thing, and he’s gotten away with drowning out the background noises with music so far. 

Since Homecoming, Mister Stark had been almost overly accommodating to Peter, lab time once a week, checking in regularly about patrol and sometimes school stuff. He even made Peter a room in the tower, just down the hallway from his and Pepper’s own. 

“Just in case,” Mister Stark had said casually, but just in case of what, Peter wasn’t sure. Mister Stark had been so nice, in fact, that Peter was worried that if he mentioned the FRIDAY thing, Mister Stark would start ripping wires straight out of the walls. 

The drum beat builds, and Peter skips into the kitchen, tossing his bag onto the counter and making a perfectly timed (and well practiced) skid to a halt directly in front of the fridge as a guitar screeches, and something else explodes on Ned’s game. FRIDAY lowers the music. 

The fridge does not contain anything Peter deems worthy of a post-travel snack. 

“If Happy’s not your babysitter, maybe he’s your bodyguard, then.” Ned suggests, picking up the thread of conversation again. 

“I don’t need a bodyguard either!” Peter huffs, slamming the fridge shut and pulling himself up onto the bench top, reaching for the high shelves. While showing him around, Mister Stark had vaguely gestured towards up here as to where he kept the “good stuff”. 

Peter pulls open the first cupboard, and finds gummy worms. 

"Yes! Wuuuurmzz!" Peter pulls the treats. 

Pepper's left a little note for him in an efficient script. _Peter, only you and I are tall enough to find these._

"Ah, I love Pepper." Peter air kisses the note, then rips into the gummy worms. 

"Dare you to say it to her face." Ned deadpans. 

"We aren't there yet.” Peter dismisses, and moves onto the next cupboard. He freezes. ”Holy shit. I just found the other good stuff.” 

The cupboard is crowded with glass bottles of all shapes and sizes, dust collecting on the stoppers of the bottles, and along the shelves below them. Peter sneezes, just as Ned asks “Sour patches?” 

“No,” Peter says, wiping his nose. “Liquor.” 

Ned snorts. “Peter, what are you going to do with alcohol?” 

“I could-” Peter’s brain boots up, a long forgotten chemistry experiment stirring in the back of his brain. He chases the thought as he sneezes again, throwing more dust into the air. This cupboard clearly hasn't been opened for ages, no ones touching this alcohol, something that makes Peter happy, and he smiles through his continued sneezing. 

“Hey, remember that time Ryan Cooper gave you that vodka shot and you cried?” Ned asks. 

Peter shrugs, even though Ned can’t see him. “That was moonshine, made in his bathtub. It was like drinking kerosene. But, remember how we had to call May to pick us up because you thought that packet of dried coriander was weed?” Peter replies, reaching into the cupboard, hesitant to disturb the bottles, and too curious to not take a closer look. 

“Dude.” Ned sounds offended. “You promised me we'd never speak of it again.” 

He’s never seen so much alcohol in his life. He tosses the packet of gummy worms onto the bench behind him. “The entire night was under that clause, Ned. You breached the contract first.” Peter points out, “Hey! Fancy tequila!” 

It’s the tequila that brings the lost thought back to the front of his brain. Peter checks the alcohol content. 40-proof. Perfect. 

"Ned, I think I'm gonna have to commandeer this bottle in the name of science." Peter pulls the pineapple shaped bottle from the cupboard. 

"Actually" Ned's voice turns thoughtful, "I was thinking about that too. If you could also get your hands on an evacuated tubing system, and a centrifuge, we could do some metabolic rate calculations-" 

Peter hums to indicate he's listening, reading the label on the bottle. The light catches in the liquid, and with horror he realises there’s gold flakes suspended in it. Gold flakes? Did you drink them? Just guzzle down some gold? Can a human stomach even digest gold? Billionaires are insane. 

"So you drink, and we take half hourly blood tests, and we measure how fast you're processing it." 

"Why alcohol? Why not like, an opioid or a stimulant?" Peter places the bottle back where he found it. He roots around in the cupboard for another, less expensive looking bottle. 

"Um, because both those things are illegal." Ned says, his judgmental tone transmitting through FRIDAY’s speakers super clearly. 

"So is underage drinking." Peter points out. 

"Categorically a different thing. " Ned says. “For science, Peter!” 

“Always a strong argument. I was actually thinking about using it for something more fun. Remember in 2008 when those Mexican scientists made diamond films from tequila?” Peter plays the prototype on his wrist, spinning it as he considers his options. He’s been thinking of ways to make the deployment system faster. 

“You mean when we were six? Of course I don't remember that. No one remembers stuff like that when they were six.” Ned says with exasperation. 

Peter ignores him. “They used a pulsed liquid injection chemical vapor deposition technique. I'd forgotten about it til now. I bet I could replicate it in the lab.” 

“Grow your own diamonds?” 

“Why not? It's like the adult version of those ‘grow your own crystals’ kits.” Peter steps sideways on the counter top to the next cupboard. It’s empty. He continues down the bench top, hunting through all the cupboards. Food. The mission was originally food. 

“Adult because it's made from alcohol.” Ned says. 

“Exactly! And because we'd need to create a system to convert the alcohol to gas, then super heat it to break down its molecular structure. And that's not exactly safe. Can’t do it in the kitchen.” He hits the end of the bench, stepping carefully over the sink. 

“You can't use Mister Stark's four hundred dollar tequila to grow diamonds.” Ned says, more blaster fire from his end of the line. 

Peter jumps lightly across the small gap between the bench top to the island that separates the kitchen from the living area. A breakfast bench, Pepper had called it, with its neatly aligned tall stools. His tossed gummy worm packet has left a spray of sugar across it. He spies an apple in the fruit bowl and scoops it up. 

“Diamonds which I could then use to line the repulsor systems.” Peter bites into his apple. “And then I’d always be with him.” Peter adds, “in Spirit.” 

"I see what you did there,” Ned says, “and I respect the pun. And the concept. Super freaking cute man. And lame. But mostly cute." 

"I think he'd appreciate it." Peter steps down onto a stool and gives himself a lazy push off the breakfast bar with one foot, sending the seat spinning. He pirouettes idly, chomping on his apple, his vision twisting. 

Kitchen, dining room, living room, various Avengers, giant view of New York, wait, what? 

Peter hooks his foot onto the counter to stop himself, wobbling dangerously for a second. Half chewed apple drops from his mouth as his arms pinwheel. He can feel the shock on his face as he skips his eyes over the ex- Avengers, and locks eyes with Mister Stark. 

“FRIDAY, music off.” Mister Stark says lowly. 

Mister Stark's mouth is pressed into a hard line, his right hand gripping his opposite wrist tightly. Peter’s acutely aware of the Black Widow, Hawkeye and that Falcon guy sitting in the couches, staring at him as well, but he can’t look away from the way Mister Stark’s nostrils are flaring as he sucks one deep breath, then another. A convenient explosion from Ned’s game crackles through the living room, and Peter flinches. 

"Uh, Ned." Peter squeaks out. 

"What?" 

"I'm going to have to call you back." Peter says. 

"Mister Stark is there, isn't he?" Ned asks. 

Peter lets his silence speak for itself. 

"And he doesn't think the tequila thing is funny." Ned says. 

"Uh." Peter clears his throat. "Still undecided." 

Mister Stark shakes his head slowly, in a way that indicates it's time for Peter to hang up. 

"I'd be more worried about when he tells May anyway." Ned chirps. 

“Ned!” 

“Sorry, Mister Stark!” Ned calls, then hangs up. 

Silence falls in the apartment. Peter shifts awkwardly from foot to foot on his stool. He sneaks a look at the others in the living room. Falcon looks bemused, Hawkeye amused, but Miss Romanoff is watching him intensely, her eyes narrowed. 

Oh my god, he thinks, Black Widow is staring right at me. She knows, a voice whispers in his head, I’m totally screwed. 

For a moment it doesn’t seem like it would be so bad, but then recalls how adamant Mister Stark had been that his secret must be protected at all times. This particular group of ex-teammates wouldn’t be top of his list to spill to anyway. What are they even doing here? 

"Peter." Mister Stark sounds very calm. Too calm. Scary calm. "Why are your dirty Nikes on our seven hundred dollar white stools?" 

Peter looks at the cushion under his foot. Mister Stark paid seven hundred dollars for these? They weren't even that comfortable to sit on! 

"Floor is lava?" He suggests weakly. 

"Get down." Mister Stark snaps. “Carefully.” He adds. 

Peter hesitates. He’s seen Mister Stark mad before, the ferry incident springs immediately to mind, but this was different somehow. This time, even behind the dark sunglasses he can see the wide, slightly wild eyes and when he listens carefully, the elevated heart rate. Mister Stark must be pissed. 

Peter kind of feels safer on the bench. He glances back to the group of ex heroes. Hawkeye coughs into his fist. 

Peter goes to step off the stool. 

Then the elevator door pings. Peter’s senses yell for a second, startling him back up onto the counter top. He’s got the wrist repulsor unfolded and pointed towards the elevator, barely aware what he’s doing before it’s done. His apple bounces off the edge of the island. 

Captain Rogers freezes. 

Some part of Peter’s brain registers bad, bad, bad, but he keeps his hands trained towards Captain Rogers. Is he even a Captain anymore? Or just Rogers? The protoype repulsor whirs in Peter’s palm. Rogers slowly raises his hands. 

Mister Stark swears. 

Oh my god, Peter thinks, I’m so dead. Dead, dead, dead. He has a vague understanding of what happened in Siberia, reconstructed through glimpses of the damaged suit and half caught conversations between the adults in his orbit. He’s mad, on Mister Stark’s behalf. And honestly, he realises as his outstretched fingers tremble, a little scared. 

Colonel Rhodes steps out from behind Rogers. 

“Oh Christ.” Colonel Rhodes rolls his eyes towards Tony, “Hey, Small fry.” He walks into the room, and knocks his fist against the kitchen bench, as though the tense standoff was totally normal. “What’re we up to?” 

“Apparently, raiding my liquor cabinet, and my lab.” Mister Stark grumbles, readjusting his blue tinted glasses. “Was it show and tell at school today, Kid?” 

Movement from the elevator sends Peter’s attention back to Rogers. Peter shoots him a hard glance over his outstretched hand, though his fear is starting to cave to embarrassment. Oh god, he’s made a scene. 

“Easy, Son.” The war criminal says. 

“You’re a little old to be my father.” Peter snaps, but he drops his hand and folds the repulsor back into the watch housing. So much for getting it back into the lab before Mister Stark noticed. Add it to the list of things Mister Stark will kill him for. Or let May kill him for. May’s definitely going to kill him. Then Happy will get a turn. 

“Ex-vengers, Peter.” Mister Stark says, using a hand to wipe the corner of his smile away, “Peter, ex-vengers. Say hi.” 

“Hi.” Peter says curtly. 

Rogers steps out of the elevator, and Mister Stark crosses the room, stopping right beside Peter’s stool. He rests his hand on the back of Peter’s leg. The old Avenger’s eyes follow the movement. 

“I’m going to make you wipe these benches down later.” He says casually, and gives Peter’s ankle a squeeze. Mister Stark’s looking at Rhodey though. The man gives him a nod before Mister Stark orders, “Sit.” 

“Woof.” Peter barks sarcastically, then drops down onto the seat. 

“Watch.” Mister Stark holds out his hand. 

The stool swings a little as Peter fumbles to remove the watch in silence. His knees bump against Mister Stark’s side. His mentor is still not looking at him, staring back out at the rest of the group. Peter’s apple lays on the floor between the two groups. 

No one speaks. Is this what superhero reunions are always like? Peter wonders as he slaps the watch into Mister Stark’s outstretched palm. So awkward. 

“Where’s yours?” Mister Stark asks, finally looking at Peter again. “You know, the one I specifically slaved away at for two whole days.” 

Peter extends his left wrist, showing him the watch that’s still there. As much as Mister Stark huffs, it’s little more than a glorified, bomb proof timekeeper and panic button. Peter hard noped on any continual GPS surveillance or biometric monitoring from Mister Stark, and had gone through the insides of the watch himself with Ned, after bringing it home, just in case. That had been in the early tower days. There wasn't any extra tracers in the watch, and trust had grown since then. 

“So, that Ryan Cooper sounds like a dick, huh?” Hawkeye breaks the silence. 

Mister Stark snorts. Peter feels his face light up bright red. Instead of answering he grabs the gummy worms off the counter, and shoves a handful in his mouth. 

“Don't think May and I won't get into that later.” Mister Stark says, “After we’ve dealt with the kleptomania, the ‘weed’ misidentification, and several other parts of that enlightening conversation.” 

“We know what weed looks like now.” Peter mumbles. 

“Absolutely not helping your case.” Mister Stark says. 

“Oh my god.” Peter whispers. “Can we not do this here?” 

Mister Stark looks at Rhodes again. 

“Hey don't look at me, man.” Rhodes shrugs with a smile. “You know I think this is sweet justice. He's like God's little gift, sent down just for me.” 

“Do you have to infantilise me in front of the guests?” Peter scowls at Rhodes. 

“You have a gummy worm hanging out of your mouth.” He says back. 

“Yeah, and I think that you should share.” Hawkeye adds in. 

“No. No candy for strangers.” Mister Stark snaps, and grabs the bag away from Peter. 

"You know that's not the saying, right?" Rhodes interjects, leaning across the counter to accept an offered worm. 

“That was a nice repulsor deployment, Peter.” Miss Romanoff’s soft voice floats across the living room. She gives him a friendly smile, but she’s still analysing him with sharp eyes. “You’re very fast.” 

“Tony.” Rogers says, still over near the entrance to the living space. He hovers there, arms hanging awkwardly at his side. “Tony, I had no idea.” 

Mister Stark snorts again, and Peter hears his heartbeat accelerate again. Peter bumps his knees into Mister Stark’s side again. 

“If I had’ve known-” Steve tries again. 

“Don’t tell me what you would’ve done if you had’ve known.” Mister Stark snaps back. “I-” He takes a breath. “It’s got nothing to do with why you’re here.” 

“Why are you here?” Peter asks before he can really consider the wisdom of it. 

The ex-vengers trade looks with one another. Peter doesn’t miss that Mister Stark and Rhodes exchange a look over his head too. 

“Hey,” Peter grabs Mister Stark’s sleeve, “why are they here?” He looks about again. “And where’s Vision?” 

“Vision is in Wakanda right now, with Bruce and the others.” Tony says. 

“Doctor Banner is back?” Peter’s eyes widen. 

He’s never met the guy, but knows that Mister Stark considers him the smartest man he’s ever known, though he also esteems the scientists from Wakanda. They’d been discussing a visit to the country ever since the internship started for real, wondering what they might be able to learn about their vibranium energy sources. And Doctor Banner was there too? Peter could- 

“Peter, no.” Mister Stark says, as though reading his mind. 

“But, you said we could go!” Peter protests. 

“This isn’t a field trip.” Falcon interrupts, and stands impatiently. “Stark, we’ve got to go.” 

“Give them a second.” Hawkeye responds, sharper than his joking tones before. “Peter, Tony, take your time.” He adds more gently. 

He looks between them all, and for the first time, notices all the ex-vengers wear some kind of combat ready clothing. He suddenly feels uneasy. 

“Is this,” Peter drops his voice, “Avengers stuff? Because you know-” 

“Peter, no.” Tony says again firmly. 

“Hey,” Rhodes says calmly, “don’t worry, we got this.” 

“Got what-” Peter asks again, looking between Mister Stark and Colonel Rhodes. 

“Got none of your business, Peter Pan.” Mister Stark quips. 

He slides off the chair, ready to argue. Instead, Mister Stark surprises him by dropping a hand onto his shoulder. 

“Pete, you “ Tony emphasises the _‘You’_ in the way that Peter knows means Spider-Man, “are not invited. In fact, you’re grounded.” 

And if that isn’t an overreach and a half, Mister Stark adds, “Go to your room. Do not pass the labs. Do not collect two hundred dollars, just go.” He spins Peter around and gives him a prod. “And when your homework is done, you can come back out here and wipe down these benches.” Mister Stark adds. 

“Next time, Peter.” Miss Ronanoff gives him a small wink. 

Peter gives them all another long look before turning and stalking down the hallway. 

“We can wait,” Hawkeye repeats, probably to Mister Stark, “if you need to say goodbye privately.” 

“He’ll be alright.” Mister Starks dismisses, then yells down the hallway, “As long as he doesn’t throw himself out of any windows!” 

“Oh, come on!” Peter yells back. Of course he knew Peter was about to swing back in via the balcony as Spider-Man. 

“Tony.” Falcon says, sounding concerned, “is he going to be safe here alone? I know it’s hard on kids of vets. If he's having those kinds of thoughts, I could call someone to-” 

“Calm down, Fly boy.” He can practically hear the shrug in Mister Stark 's response. “It's a gen z thing, or whatever. He’s fine.” 

He’s barely reached his room when FRIDAY chimes with an alert on the screen in his room. It’s a text from Mister Stark. _Spider-man’s not getting in that plane, in case I wasn’t clear enough. See you when I get back._

Peter thinks hard. He’s getting more and more uneasy about the whole thing. For the ex-vengers to show up, unexpected. For Mister Stark and Rhodey to be going off to Wakanda with them, even more so. His Spidey sense is really unhappy with these developments. 

He can hear the Avengers assembling in the living room. With Spider-man not allowed into the quinjet, he has to plan fast. Luckily, that’s usually how he plans, so he’s used to it. 

When the Avengers walk out to the Quinjet four minutes later, no one notices the retroflector-shielded Iron Man armour clinging to the underside of the loading dock. Not technically in the plane, Peter thinks with satisfaction, just clinging to the outside. 

Just because he’s used to planning quickly, Peter reflects as the plane starts to vibrate furiously, then raises into the air, doesn’t mean he’s particularly good at it. 

He definitely should have peed in those four minutes. 

How far away is Wakanda anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> Expect the second part in a fortnight or so.  
> I hope you enjoyed! If you did please comment here or hit me up on tumblr @reachingforaspark
> 
> Thanks so much @ferretshark as always for being a lovely and enthusiastic Beta and friend, and @searchingforstars for coming in with the last minute alcohol knowledge and the title!!
> 
> This was inspidered by @coconutknightshade's amazing "Peter Parker's Super Secret Snack Stash", if you haven't read it, please go check it out. A huge thank you to you for letting me heavily borrow from your fic. It is gorgeous, chaotic crack. And thanks for the Beta reading!! It was so fun to watch. You're an amazing author and wonderful friend. We love you, Polly, you're so great <3


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